


For Good

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Angst, F/M, Not a Happy Story, Self-Sacrifice, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 06:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16321274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: For the Whumptober prompt: Self-sacrifice.





	For Good

**Author's Note:**

> So sometimes, when I want some deep, deep feels, I watch [Kristen Chenoweth and Idina Menzel singing “For Good” from the soundtrack of Wicked](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZ0pXUb5jVU). It always does the trick. I never really wanted to put the Phrack in this situation, but then Whumptober came up, and it just… worked. Sorrynotsorry.

Phryne settled herself in the high-backed chair by the fire, her legs dangling off one side in a position that would scandalize her aunt, and carefully slid her finger under the flap of Mac’s letter. What a lovely surprise to return to her parents’ house after a day of dreary business meetings to Mac’s handwriting and news from home. She was smiling as she read the first page quickly through, Mac’s descriptions of her patients and Phryne’s friends as dryly amusing on paper as they were in person. Flipping to the second page as she read about a small party the Collinses had hosted, she was stopped by the second line.

_“...and Jack brought Charlotte, the woman he’s seeing.”_

Phryne’s smile slipped away as the breath left her, the words landing like a blow. _Jack seeing someone?_ Pressing a hand to her belly, she closed her eyes and did her best to breathe deeply.

When Phryne had realized that her father’s illness meant that someone would have to handle the estate, she’d done her best to let Jack—the dream of him—go. She’d told him that he shouldn’t wait for her ( _but oh, how she’d wanted him to_ ), that he shouldn’t quit his job and come to her because she wouldn’t have time for him ( _surely she could have made time_ ), that she didn’t think she could make the commitment that she knew he’d want ( _since she’d left Melbourne her dreams had been filled with him and only him_ ).

This was what she’d said she wanted. For him. But she never would have guessed that it would hurt so much when he took it.

Angrily, she swiped at a tear that leaked past her control. It had been her choice, her sacrifice, though no one would ever thank her for it, not even her mother, whose welfare was at the forefront of her mind. And there was no changing it now. It was clear that Jack had moved on, that he’d found someone less troublesome than she was. She could be happy for him, she was certain, though it might require a concentration of will to playact until the feeling could be genuine.

She rose, walking over to stand at the window of her parents’ drawing room, looking out at the moonlit grounds of the estate, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other toying with the swallow pin that held her scarf in place.

If nothing else, she would treasure her memories of their time together. Even with the painful thud of her heart a drumbeat in her ears that drowned out everything else, she could not regret being his partner. He’d taught her so much—through his example and by his character—about investigative methods and about serving justice, not just the letter of the law. He had changed her, made her less impulsive, more driven. She was a better person for having known him.

Perhaps someday she’d have a chance to tell him so. But not until she could let go of what might have been. Until then, she would wish him well from afar—and she did that. He deserved all the happiness in the world, and she hoped he’d found it. She would have to be content with that.

Setting her jaw, she went back to Mac’s letter, reading about Charlotte, who certainly sounded like the kind of woman she’d envisioned for Jack—young, kind, traditional. Phryne knew that her oldest friend had understood that this message would break Phryne’s heart, but she owed it to Jack to celebrate his life. She would just finish reading, and then she’d call Mac—it would be early in Melbourne, but not too early. Breathing deeply and feeling it catch in her chest, she reconsidered. Perhaps a hot bath first, and then she’d call. And if the water when she finished was saltier than when she began, well, no one ever needed to know.

**Author's Note:**

> So in case you can't stand it, the wonderful aurora_australis wrote a fix-it for this story that is just perfect: [For the Better](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16346129).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Wind Off the Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211575) by [Fire_Sign](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign)




End file.
